Celestial Jaw

Your lips are like a cloud. Soft and dreamy because is it even possible to lay on a cloud? 

Like resting in nebulosity of the white puff, it feels nearly unbelievable when my lips land on yours.

Like the very humidity evaporated within the fluffy layers of marshmallow-white walls of relief, they moisturize my soul toward a state of impassioned trembling.

And when this cloud becomes too heavy with precipitation, it will drizzle drops of anticipation.

The rain doesn’t pick up slowly but rushes in with the speed of a thousand freshly cooling dessert winds in the midst of a chilly night.

Swarms of quick, heavy drops form a windy, icy storm to awaken all the senses of any individual caught in the middle of this natural disaster. 

Yet with every single sense taking full effect of your mind and body, the misty, drenched rush makes it hard to identify.

Too captivated being completely consumed by the celestial jaws of the cosmos.

But when the storm is at bay and the clouds blow away, you can experience a recollection of the sensations stimulated by the downpour.

Afterward you can smell the soothing calmness following the storm brushing past your olfactory nerves.

You can taste the cool breath of the lightning, sparks flying across your tongue. 

You can feel the cotton soft comfort from the security offered after being blanketed by the hazy white and gray obscurity.

You can hear the soothing drops as they lighten and soften their once tremendous pouring, drip, drip, dropping on puddles galore.

And you can see the beauty cast by the sun shining through the clouds as they move farther in the distance, dissipating with each heavy drop released.

When that tranquility sets in, it feels like home.